


Little Bummer Boy (Fuck Trump)

by WillowPerpetua



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American Politics, Holidays, M/M, Social Justice Warrior Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8635264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: Steve makes his feelings about the political climate known, despite the school dress code. A revised story taken from 2015's Holiday fic challenge





	

**Author's Note:**

> All my gratitude to http://colorfulcandypainter.tumblr.com/ for her fantastic artwork. I adore her.

 

* * *

On the day before the winter break began, Steve rested against his locker, hoody zipped all the way up, clutching his notes to his chest with his everyday look of casual defiance as the bell rang above his head, just as earsplitting as ever. Bucky approached as the stampede of students threatened to overwhelm them and walked with him toward their first period class.

“So what’s it gonna be this year?” Bucky asked, expectant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve said shrugging and opening his notebook.

“Bull.” Bucky said, leaning closer. “You waited until the day before winter break. Means It’s gotta be something big. Steve, c’mon, let me in on it.”

“If you’re suggesting that I’ve got something up my sleeve—“

“Of course I am.” Bucky interrupted him. “You pull some big grand prank every year. It’s got to be something big this year. Come on. Tell me.”

In answer Steve unzipped his sweat shirt and draped it across the back of his chair, leaving the words on his chest exposed to the world. In thick, bold letters that were as plain as day to everybody who might glance in his direction were two words: Fuck Trump.

Bucky took a moment to take the message in, nodded, tilted his head to the side to consider the shirt from a better angle, and hummed thoughtfully.

“Well.” He said, although he did not know what he would say next.

“What?” Steve said, already puffing out his chest, the better to read his message, and jutting out his jaw like he was gearing up for a fight.

“It’s just, that’s not really a prank, is it?” Bucky said. “It’s more of a political statement.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed. “After I put the live turkey in Principal Hill’s office before Thanksgiving to try to encourage more people to consider veganism, I figured it was time to cool it. Also, I think this is more important. There are people who think Trump’s a joke, a punchline, but he’s not. He is a bully. It’s never okay to let a bully win, and bullies win when good people say nothing.”

“Well, jeeze, Steve, I didn’t expect a big speech. I mean, you’re preaching to the choir here. I think he’s just as bad as the next rational person.”

“But what about the people who aren’t rational? There are a lot of them. Anyway, how come I’ve never heard you speak up against him?” Steve asked. Bucky knew when Steve was all talk and when he was ready to start throwing fists. This was just a heavy conversation. Still, it was too heavy for 7:52 a.m. Bucky shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I just never thought much about it before now, okay? You win.”

“Maybe that’s because you can hide.” Steve said, under his breath. “Maybe you don’t have to think about it.”

“Alright, class, settle down. I know it’s a losing battle, but I’m going to try to keep your interest for just under an hour.” Mr. Coulson looked just as ready to be done with the day as they were. They could sense it on him. The desire to flee into the snowbanks and not be seen again for three weeks was strong. His eyes lingered on Steve as he glanced around the room.

“Mr. Rogers, can you tell me what’s on your shirt?” He asked. Mr. Coulson managed to maintain a professional distance, he kept the smile just hidden under a thin layer of calm, but the phrase “Fuck Trump” on his student’s shirt caught him by surprise so much that he nearly let out a chuckle.

“Do you really want me to say it out loud, sir?” Steve asked.

“Then clearly you and I can both tell it’s inappropriate and should not be worn in school.” Mr. Coulson said. His tone was understanding, but Steve could tell he would not budge. Steve groaned inwardly. He hoped he would at least make it to break after third period before he had to change.

“Okay. I’ll change.” Steve said.

“No, I’m afraid I have to send you to the office.” Mr. Coulson said. “It’s school policy for a dress code violation.”

“Really?” Steve asked, holding his backup shirt to his chest (it read “This School Deemed My Shirt a Distraction.”

“Yes, Mr. Rogers. I don’t make the rules.” Mr. Coulson said, and handed Steve a hall pass. Steve nodded, shoved the shirt back into his bag, and took off down the hall with the pass in hand.

 

* * *

 

Steve sat in Principal Hill’s office, jiggling his knee up and down in a nervous rhythm while he waited for her to enter and rain righteous fire down upon him. Sure, he thought to himself, he had planned on getting in trouble, that was kind of the point, but he wished now that he had brought Bucky in on this after all. A second shirt wouldn’t have cost him that much more, and then at least they would both be sitting here together.

Steve felt bad for even thinking the thought. Of course he would not wish that Bucky were in trouble on his behalf. He just wanted to be around him, in any way that he could, and he really did not want to be alone.

Principal Hill entered the office and Steve sat up straighter. Steve was prepared to argue his case on free speech and bodily autonomy and the first amendment. He had it all written down, but he didn’t even have a chance to start.

“Nice shirt.” She said, not bothering to mask the half smile that slid across her face. It was gone the moment she sat.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Normally we’d just put you in an extra shirt for gym class but winter break starts in…” Hill checked her watch “five hours and thirty-seven minutes. So.” She stood and rummaged through a tall filing cabinet in the back of the room and returned with a roll of black duct tape. “Here’s what I’ve got. Cover up the objectionable word and you’ll keep a clean record.”

“Are you serious?” Steve asked.

“As a heart attack.” Principal Hill said. “Call it a Christmas Present. I mean, Holiday present.”

“Thanks for the political correctness, but I do celebrate Christmas.”

“Okay then.” Hill said. “You know what to do.” She tore a strip of tape for him. “Now get out of my office.”

“Yes, ma’am. Happy holidays.” Steve said. He took the tape and her mercy and left.

Steve returned to class with his shirt altered. He placed the hall pass on Mr. Coulson’s desk, and stood at the back of the room with an expression of perfect serenity.

“Mr. Rogers, I see you met with Principal Hill.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And she allowed you to keep the shirt?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve said again. “She said that if I covered the offensive word, I was in the clear. As you can see, the offensive word is gone.”

The shirt now said “Fuck” followed by a patch of duct tape which obscured the word “Trump.”

If Steve expected Mr. Coulson to be angry, if he expected him to argue or to turn red, then he would not have been the kid who sat through Mr. Coulson’s history class every day since August. Instead, they shared a small nod of understanding before Steve returned to his seat.

  

* * *

 

 

The bell rang at the end of the day with no more major hang ups. Steve met up with Bucky, bundled up in coats and scarves, to prepare for the long walk home with the “Fuck Trump” shirt buried under all the layers.

“Ready to head out?” Steve asked.

“Just about. Only one thing left I gotta do before we ditch this place for three weeks.” Bucky said, and although Steve could hear all the relief in his voice, there was a tremor of nervousness just under the surface.

“Okay, take your time.” Steve said, and leaned back against the lockers.

“So here’s the thing.” Bucky said, closing his locker. “I love your shirt. I love that you’re always coming up with these weird stunts and that you get away with it. I love that you’re not afraid to do what’s right, whatever that is, no matter if it’s something little like a tee-shirt or something huge like getting Principal Schmidt fired last year for being a racist prick.”

“Gee,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the linoleum. He always figured these were the kinds of things that went unsaid between them. “Thanks, Buck.”

“So what I’m tryin’ to say is I love you, Steve. And I’d like to kiss you if that’s okay.” Bucky’s face had turned a bright shade of pink as he spoke, but he did not flinch. The whole hallway had stopped its migration around them to watch Bucky’s declaration and held its collective breath. “There’s just one thing I think you oughta see first.”

Bucky unzipped his jacket so that Steve could see his shirt, turned inside out with a statement scrawled across it in permanent marker. The handwriting was as bold and neat as Bucky had ever written a thing, so that it could be read from far away. It said “FUCK MIKE PENCE, TOO.”

Steve and Bucky kissed, and although Steve knew that he had a long battle ahead of him, he knew that he would not have to fight it alone.

 

 


End file.
